March 24th

By the end of yesterday my health had dipped again. So much for the false hope of improving steadily out of the hole. I struggled to stay up til 8pm, then went to bed feeling drained and ill, my back a tangle of tingles and nerve pops, stabs of pain internally that would blip and fizzing somewhere in my mid torso. Again. Left side of my face would tingle in concert with my back. The chaotic feedback of a system in distress. And then managed to sleep fitfully. 4 hours. Then 2 hours. Then 1 hour. Then a malaise of dozing.

I went to the hospital yesterday - at this point I'm getting really familiar with the place, I've lost count of how many times I've been in the last few months - and got a CT scan done. It was by far my best experience at the hospital. Turned up 20 minutes early - my bad should have only been 10, but, difficult to judge - and within 2 minutes of registering and sitting down, I was called in and the scan was underway. I left before my appointment was even supposed to start - just before 7pm ish.

The scan was done by I think a private health firm that are providing extra services for the NHS. The process was slick and reminiscent of Harley Street. No faff. Very smart. No sitting in a corridor for 30 minutes with your ass hanging out ( the last time I was at NNUH for an MRI ).

I chatted to the dude whilst he prepped me and stuck a cannula in my arm for the iodine solution. Told him about Harley Street. How I hadn't been to London in forever. He asked if it was different and what that was like. Yeah. Very different. I didn't tell him it freaked me out. Busy ? Extremely I said.I He was surprised. I'm used to Norwich now I said. It was super busy to me. He was a similar age to me, asked where I grew up in London. Turns out we'd both been to Petticoat Lane back in the day. I used to be able to get my bearings in London he said. But it's so built up now I struggle to spot the landmarks. So different. I sound like my dad now he said.

Scan was as easy as it gets. CT scans are nothing to sweat about. Even with the contrast pumping through you. The machine seemed to sample quite a bit of me compared to the CT scan I had in Harley Street. It swept up and down. Hopefully its taken a shot of all the important bits. I am hoping they find something. Well. Hoping they find something fixable. Not terminal. Results in 10 days apparently. If it finds nothing then either its hidden from the likes of x ray or we are into murky virus sydrome worlds. Or autoimmune shenanigans. The spectre of MS always lurking in the shadows. I have a hunch the scan will find something though.

I guess, finally, at this point, I've had just about every scan done of most of the stuff in my body. It is of course not perfect and not everything will show up. But at the very least we are now in a place where things have been looked at and ruled in or out. The analytical IT dude in me is happier that at least we've now taken a look "at the code" rather than just standing back from afar and trying to guess the problem from a distance.

Blood results came back from Harley Street. A red flag on my lymphocytes. White blood cells. Too low. Which is indicative that something bad is going on. No shit.

I have to be careful of my mood. As I lapsed into unwell and tiredness last night, my mood darkened, the thoughts of the future dwindled to the present moment, and I slipped into that gap of thinking that the world was for the living, but not for me. I was the walking dead. Future plans were pointless. You're just marking time until you cark it Johnny. On the taxi journey home we went through central Norwich, and I surveyed the darkened destruction of the high street. Of new places struggling to open. But not for me. Things like that were for the living. Not for me. My future was very short. My mind is brutal. It takes no prisoners and is unflinching in its contemplation of the dark. A bit too much. I have a very strong streak of not just believing in what you want, but taking the bad as well as the good. Just the raw data, no belief system or bias of censorship. Which is marvellously objective. Or at its worst dwells in the darkness. But. Terribly damaging when taken to sitting and contemplating all aspects of the abyss. I think to be happy you need to apply some subjective avoidance of misery. At least some of it. Staring at the nihilistic universe that has no care for you or your future is corrosive long term I think without a heavy dose of subjective silly happiness. That's by and large not how I am wired though. A mistake. Another psychological flaw in me. Add it to the list.

Think positive Johnny. Be subjective. Ignore the nihilism. The brutal part of me sneers at such a philosophy. But problem solving aside, the brutal part of me has done me few favours. As controversial a figure as Churchill is these days, it is one of the things I can empathise with him and admire him for - despite horrible depression, that grit your teeth in the face of overwhelming darkness and just do it. I get it. And I understand the demons he must have fought in his own head. It makes me think that when things are at their darkest, sometimes you may need someone to fight who is used to being in the dark.

Anyway. I am digressing hardcore.

This morning, I am... kinda ok. Which is positive. I dont feel well. I am weak. But I'm funtional. I'm not suffering to the extent that suicide looks attractive. I have a wonderful set of black eyes, of course. But. It's ok. I am pacing myself. Making sure to eat. And drink. I might even play a game later. I feel like playing something. I am not sure I should be working at these times. I am working when I can. And. Pushing it. Which is almost certainly a stupid thing to be doing. Hazel scolded me yesterday for working too long. Half a day at most she said. She's probably right. But I worry about money. And keeping it rolling in. Harley Street is not cheap.

My sister brought up the fact I could probably get some financial help for being so ill, particularly as it stretched on and stopped me working. Wasn't a nice experience she said to continually get tested and questioned. But it would be something. Not sure I could do it I said. I have never felt comfortable with it. And I am aware of the horror show the state financial support system is when helping friends through it. Demeaning is an understatement. Horrific. Blowing my brains out feels easier. But I am not there. Yet. Or hopefully ever. Davey has continually said I shouldn't worry about money. That he will help if necessary. But I fear being a burden. And taking peoples money seems like the worst burden of all. So I worry. Always. Probably one of my unfortunate fundamental fears - money. I push hard against it and am generous to others when they need it. I know it makes a big difference. I will likely be a pauper in my old age... should I make my old age.

Anyway. Digressing again. We shall see how today goes.